Cliff Jumping

This past summer I did something I had never done before. I went cliff jumping… well, at least the southern Indiana version of it. My wife and I have friends who have access to an abandoned stripper pit that is perfect for such an activity. (For those of you not from coal mining country, let me assure you that a stripper pit has nothing to do with topless dancers! Just think: long, narrow, deep lake with high, steep rock walls on each side.) Those who know me well know that I get basically zero enjoyment out of anything that has to do with getting wet, but there is also an adventurous side of me, and so the opportunity to climb around on rocks, shimmy up trees, and rely on loosely anchored vines to “safely” glide from one place to the next on the side of a steeply inclined rocky surface before jumping two or three stories down like a crazy person was enough incentive for me to put up with getting wet.

So… I went along, and IT WAS AWESOME! I had a blast. It was incredibly cool, after a really challenging climb up the side of the rock wall, to look down at the twisted, crisscrossed path I took to get to my jumping point and realize, “Yeah, I just conquered that!”

But I quickly learned two things. First, I learned that it is a way more intimidating to stand at the top and look down than it was to look up from below. Next, I learned that once you’re at the top you really don’t have much of a choice about what to do next. So you can hem and haw, fret and fuss, and freak out all you want, but unless you plan on living the rest of your life standing on that one foot square ledge 30 feet above the water below, sooner or later you are going to have to jump. After all, the purpose of cliff jumping isn’t just to get to the top. The purpose is to get to the top AND JUMP! All of the courage-mustering and fear-facing, the testing and grabbing and stepping your way up, all of that is for the express purpose of standing up on the ledge, looking down, and taking that oh-so-exhilarating plunge into the cool waters below. So what do you do? You take a deep breath, bend your knees just enough to spring back up, and you go for it!

Over the last few weeks I have been thinking that we often have a lot of opportunities for cliff jumping—the proverbial kind—in life, and Michelle and I have been faced with a big one recently. You see, in a lot of ways we have spent the better part of the last 18 months grabbing, pulling, and stepping our way up the side of this big rock cliff in front of us. Even without knowing what the eventual destination looked like, we have been working our way up, hoping our view of the top becomes a little more clear with each move. And that’s just what happened. As little by little we made our way higher, bits and pieces of the picture began to come together, and we found ourselves become more and more certain of God’s leading. As we pushed upward, with each grasp of the sandstone rock we were able to more clearly see his plan unfolding. Then, after what seemed like an exhausting journey, we made it to the top. In our case, the top came in the form of a formal call being issued, a job offer being presented.

Then… the time came for the decision (*cue dramatic sound effect here*). Though the answer couldn’t have been clearer to us, it was anything but easy. We spent a lot of time thinking of all we would give up, all we would leave behind, all it would cost in terms of dollars and relationships and stress and change, all of the things that may never be the same… and at the very same time we were thinking of all we would gain, all we would get in terms of new opportunities and relationships and experiences. And as I said before, we knew the point of the exercise, the purpose of the journey, wasn’t just to get to the top. So next thing you know we were bending our knees ever so slightly and pushing off, all the way to Albuquerque, NM. (That’s a 1,216 mile jump. Just in case you’re curious. Which you probably aren't.)

I’d be lying if I said we aren’t the least bit nervous. Or sad. Or scared. But I’d also be lying if I said we weren’t super excited. And joyful. And confident that we are doing exactly what God is calling us to do, following the path he has set before us, and appreciating all of the pieces he has been putting in place over a long period of time to prepare us and to make it all possible.

So yeah… we’re moving to Albuquerque. 

It's been quite a journey!

If you would have asked me last June what my expectations were for the next year and a half, never in a hundred thousand lifetimes would I have accurately guessed the journey my life would take over the next 15 months. I would have suggested that you were straightjacket-in-a-padded-room crazy if you would have suggested that there was even the slightest possibility that:

1. I would feel God call my wife and  me to step away from a church we helped launch, that we loved, and that we had devoted ourselves to for five amazing years. 

2. We would actually have the guts to be obedient to God’s call, even when I had no job, no plan, and no clue what the future would look like.  

3. I would end up driving 150 miles each day to work on my family’s farm, continuously considering the question of whether or not I want to start the process of taking over the business. 

4. I would suffer through some of the darkest, most difficult, painful, frustrating weeks--or maybe months--I have ever experienced, struggling for any inkling of direction or purpose. 

5. I would come through on the other side renewed and refreshed and better equipped for whatever the future might hold, with a ton of new perspective and a reignited passion for ministry. 

6. That because of #5 I would actually be thankful for #4. 

Needless to say, it’s been an interesting journey.

I’ve learned a lot.

I’ve grown a lot.

I think I’ve matured a lot.

And I think a big part of that learning and growing and maturing is because I’ve also:

Prayed a lot.

Sought God a lot.

Focused on my relationship with God just because he’s my savior and my friend and not because it’s my job… a lot.

When I stepped away from my church I did so with excitement and eager anticipation about whatever spectacular and amazing and life-changing adventure God had in store for us. I couldn’t wait to figure out where we would be going or what we would be doing. Those questions consumed me. Maybe we would head to some exciting far-off country as missionaries. Maybe we would help lead some awesomely awesome church that was changing the world one person at a time. Or maybe… I would wait… and wait… and wait… and seemingly nothing would happen. At all.

As time marched on and those questions remained unanswered, the excitement and anticipation graciously stepped aside to make way for anxiety, frustration, disappointment, disillusionment, and despair to take center stage. Though I was still trying to trust in God, a part of me felt like he had let me down. I was thinking, “You spoke and I obeyed. I held up my end of the bargain. What’s the deal?!” It felt like a bait and switch and God was saying, “Oh, just kidding. Gotcha!”

But  here’s the thing… You see, I was so obsessed with the endpoint that I completely missed the fact that maybe, just maybe, all of this had almost nothing to do with the destination and EVERYTHING to do with the journey. I was expecting something spectacular and amazing and life-changing, and I felt like I got something different. But as I look back I can see now that even though I might not describe the journey as spectacular or amazing, it has absolutely been life-changing.

And it was just exactly what I needed.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Whatever it is that God does have it store... I wasn’t ready for it in February. Or May. Or September. God had work to do in me first. He STILL has work to do. The truth, though, is that there may have been no other way for me to learn what I’ve learned, grow how I’ve grown, and mature how I’ve matured without going through all I’ve gone through and experiencing all I’ve experienced. I couldn’t see that then, but I can see it so clearly now.

I’m still waiting for a clear sense of direction or a sure answer to those destination questions, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bug me at all. But as I realize all the ways God has been working in me, changing me, I am thankful that even though I don’t yet know the destination, all along God’s grand purpose may have been the journey.

“I am trusting you, O Lord, saying, ‘You are my God!’ My future is in your hands.” ~ Psalm 31:14-15a NLT

Positively Positive about being Positive

Have you ever met somebody who is always positive, always looking on “the bright side,” always able to point out the silver lining (What the heck is silver lining anyway? The closest thing to silver lining I can think of is the silky, shiny lining on the inside of a casket, and let’s face it, that’s not a very positive thing to think about at all.), and who never seems to admit that anything about any situation could ever, possibly be even slightly less than perfect? Sure you’ve met someone like that. We all have. The real question is whether or not you managed to keep from hitting them and saying, "Yo! Look on the bright side of that!"

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be more of… a realist. That is, of course, the best way to be. (I say that only slightly tongue in cheek and with only a little sarcasm.) With my endless free time, though, I've been watching the slick, smiling Joel Osteen on TV, and I’ve decided that I need to start trying to live My Best Life Now. That undoubtedly has to start with being a little more positive. With that in mind, I’ve come up with a very positive list.


The Top Nine Benefits of Being Unemployed
(Because I couldn’t think of 10)

9. It’s like having unlimited vacation… though it is unlimited UNPAID vacation. Minor detail.

8. I don’t contribute to the statistics showing the loss of productivity during March Madness.

7. Instead of freaking out and frantically fretting, “How can I manage to get everything done today?” I can ask, “How can I manage to find something to get done today?”

6. Two words: Online Gaming.

5. Two more words: Daytime Television! Ummm… maybe not.

4. Knowing when my wife leaves for work at 7:30 that I can sleep till noon and nobody will even know. Seriously, I don’t sleep till noon… but I COULD.

3. I pay less taxes.

2. Shower? What shower?

1. It helps me appreciate the blessings of having a good, honest, meaningful job, even when it is difficult or frustrating.


Have you ever been sans paycheck? What positive(s) did you find in it?

Untitled (Really, that's the title!)

One of the questions bouncing around my head lately as I try and figure out what the future looks like has to do with my identity as a “pastor.” Is a pastor really a pastor without a church to pastor? Is a minister without a place to minister really a minister at all? If a tree falls in a woods and no one is there to hear it… oh, sorry.

Really, this is something I’ve been mulling over for several years now. I’ve wondered if the whole idea that some people are called and set aside for this special, weird assignment of being a 40-50/hour a week paid staff person in a local church is as much a biblical construct as it is one born of convenience and tradition. That’s not to say it’s wrong, just that maybe it’s not grounded in scripture.

As someone who has had the great privilege of having his livelihood provided for by the generosity and sacrifice of people in local churches, it may sound weird to say, but allow me to suggest that I am no more called than you are. We are ALL called to follow Jesus and live our lives as fully, radically devoted followers of Christ, and I think it’s tragic that we reserve that language of call for the “professionals” in “full-time ministry.” It seems to me that our work (whatever that happens to be), our kids sports leagues and school activities, and our every day comings and goings are to be our full-time ministry, done for the glory of God and the growth of the Kingdom. Certainly God calls individuals to do certain things, but that’s just it. God calls more than just some of us; he calls all of us, and he calls all of us to ministry full-time.

It’s at least partially because of that conviction that I’ve never been much for having some ministry-related title affixed to my name. I get some crazy looks when I tell people this, but I have never liked for people to call me Reverend Bunting or Pastor Geoff or anything of the sort. I have been and will always be just Geoff, no title needed. My identity is follower of Jesus. My occupation is pastor… or was… or… I don’t know. But my point is, we don’t typically go around referring to everyone else by their occupation. “Hey there, Banker Bob! How’s it going, Construction Worker Carl? Nice day, isn’t it, Wal-Mart Greeter Wilma? How’s life, Unemployed… Uma?” And even as I’m preaching or teaching or doing whatever it is that pastors do, I’m likely no more serving God out of the calling he’s given me than many of the other people I see on Sunday mornings; it may just look different. Up until a month ago I have been serving as a pastor. That is certainly a part of who I am. But there is more that identifies me than the fact that I draw a paycheck from a church… especially since I no longer draw a paycheck from a church… or any place else. Minor detail.

As I’ve been thinking and praying and reading over the past few weeks I’ve been realizing that sometimes I get so caught up in what God has called me to DO (whatever that might just happen to be) that I forget who he has called me to BE. Feel free to disagree, but my identity has never been as a pastor, a student, a whatever. For the past 14 years of my life I have been a follower of Jesus first and foremost. That is my identity. That is who I am. Everything else is secondary.

So whatever I do for a career and however I draw a paycheck, I will be serving in ministry, and I will be serving in a church; I may just not be drawing a paycheck from a career of serving in a church. And if that is what God leads me to do, I’m okay with that. Because regardless of what I do, my identity is as a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. And beyond that, no title is needed.

P.S. I've included links here and here to a couple of blog posts that really hit home with me about this same issue.

Did you pray about it?

That’s a fair question to ask a follower of Christ whenever he or she is facing a tough decision, isn’t it? I think so. In fact, it may be a question we don’t ask enough. After all, if we are struggling to know what to do or what to choose or which way to go, why wouldn’t we want to seek help from the author of all wisdom and knowledge who loves us and is the source of our purpose and direction? Seriously. And the truth is, a lot of times we just don’t do that? So if as we are on the threshold of some major, life-changing decision and seeking the wise counsel of a trusted friend, a gentle reminder to humbly and honestly seek God with every last bit of ourselves like the fate of the world depends on it may be the best advice a person can give.

But most of the time when somebody has asked me that question, it hasn’t been pre-decision as a way of guiding me to find my answer from the all-knowing God of the universe. It has been post-decision as a way of saying, “What they heck are you thinking?” Have you ever had that happen?

Now, granted, the question itself isn’t unreasonable, especially when it’s asked to someone who generally desires to follow Jesus. But most of the time when I’m asked that question, especially post-decision, it’s not really a question at all; it’s a statement of disapproval. It’s a roundabout way of saying, “I wouldn’t have done it that way. I don’t approve. And I think you’re an idiot.” But when it’s couched in that oh-so-spiritual-sounding phrase, the implication is, “There is NO WAY you’ve actually prayed about this because I really don’t believe God would lead you in that direction. I haven’t actually prayed about it myself, but we’re talking about you here.”

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be a little… unconventional sometimes. I’m not much for conformity and I really don’t care too much if people think I’ve lost my mind, so I’ve heard THE QUESTION and others like it more than a few times from semi-well-intentioned people. What I’m learning more and more all the time, though, is how much of an unconventional nonconformist Jesus was, at least when compared to the prevailing ideas about what was normal in the Near East in those days. (And even more so when compared to the prevailing ideas about what is normal in the West in these days.) Not to compare myself to Jesus, because that would be, well… not much of a comparison at all, like dividing the ratio of penguins to jazz by the square root of pink; it just doesn’t compute, but seeing how misunderstood (and even hated) Jesus was by the religious people who you would think would be in his corner gives me a little hope that just maybe I’m on the right path at least part of the time. Because one guaranteed way to be misunderstood by both religious and irreligious people alike is to forsake “normal” life for a life of radical faith and obedience to Christ. And that is the life I desperately want to live.

So next time you see me after I’ve done something stupid, or when I’m in the process doing something stupid, or when I’m about to do something stupid, or when I’m thinking about doing something stupid…so pretty much just whenever you see me next…I give you permission to question me about it. Chances are, I may have done/be in the process of doing/be about to do/be thinking about doing something completely idiotic that every single person on the planet could look at and think, “What an idiot! What’s he thinking!?!” But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be following Jesus.

Can you hear me now?

I hate one-sided conversations. Maybe it’s just me, but there is very little more annoying than having to feign interest by plastering on a half-hearted smile and semi-engaged stare-into-nothingness while your “conversation” partner is experiencing diarrhea of the mouth. We’ve all been there, and it’s not fun.

But you know what is equally gut-wrenching?

Those times when the person across the table just sits there in silence, barely saying a word, where your best efforts fail to draw out even a three syllable mumble. You feel like you’re talking to a brick wall, or a tree, or a tree surrounded by a brick wall. I can be awkward and uncomfortable, or frustrating, or just bang-your-head-against-a-wall-to-add-some-excitement DULL. My guess is we’ve all been there before, too.

So what do you do when the silent person sitting across the table from you is none other than God himself? Hmm. That sounded like a good question, but now that I’ve asked it the answer seems obvious: you wait. He is God after all, and it’s not like you or I have a whole lot of leverage to pressure him into a response. But seriously, that’s what I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks. If you’ve read some of my recent posts you know that for several months I felt a very clear sense of God leading me to take a huge step of faith away from the church I love (that also just happened to be my source of income) without having any clue whatsoever what the next step was. Was it scary? Sure! Like walking barefoot through a well-used Bessy Bingo playing field in the dark. But it was also exciting because I was certain that God was calling me to do it and that he would show me the next step. That was January 31.

The next day (naturally) was February 1. And everything changed. Well, ok, at least one thing changed.

I don’t know if Verizon dropped my call or what the deal is, but it has seemed that God has been rather silent since then. For illustration purposes, let me show you a comparison.

January 31 = Crystal clear connection.
February 1 = Silence. Nothing. Nada. Nessuno.

So as I’m trying to plan for the future, even the short-term future, it’s tough because not only do I not feel especially called to do anything in particular, I also don’t feel especially called to do nothing. So it sort of feels like trying to swim through a giant lake of tapioca pudding… minus the inability to breath tapioca.

And I’d be lying it I said it wasn’t testing me faith a little. I have found myself thinking, “God, really? What the heck. All of that build-up for this? Talk about anticlimactic! Will you just give me some direction already?” And as I’ve taken a step back, I’ve pictured God saying, “Really, that’s all you’ve got? Three weeks and you’re already flaming out?”

And that got me thinking about the Israelites. After centuries of praying for freedom, God answered their prayers and they launched out of captivity in Egypt like a jet-propelled hippo… only to come plummeting back down to earth as doubt and impatience and a lack of trust caused them to turn their backs on God and take matters into their own hands. Thplat! (That’s my attempt at describing what happens when a previously jet-propelled hippo hits the ground. It’s a combination of “thud” and “splat.”) If you remember their plight, a two year journey to the amazing Promised Land that God had been preparing for them became a forty year saga in which an entire generation had to die out before the promise became a reality. It was an ugly scene… not unlike an exploding hippo.

Think of what their lack of trust cost them. In a word: everything! As I’ve been pondering this I’ve started thinking that maybe the greatest test of faith isn’t obeying God when the path is clear and the call is certain and you feel inseparably close to him, but maybe it’s trusting God and believing God when the path ahead isn’t clear and the call isn’t certain and it seems like God is silent and distant. Maybe the real proof of a strong faith is being willing to continue grappling for answers and seeking God in the face of uncertainty, in the midst of impatience, and in the presence of doubt, when the sum total of what we have seen and experienced and know carries us through the rough patches, and the depth of our faith holds strong through the ebb and flow of our feelings and emotions.

Interestingly enough, it's been during the most challenging and even spiritually dead-feeling times in my life that I have grown the most. I'm not sure why that is, but it's true for me. More on that another time, though.

PS. Watch out for falling hippos.

Faking Honesty

I know, there hasn’t been a blog post for a while. I’ve been busy… for being unemployed. Really, I have been busy. But that’s not why there haven’t been any blog posts. You see, I’ve been writing blog posts. I just haven’t been posting them. I know, that doesn’t make sense when the purpose of writing blog posts is to post them online and let other people read them. That’s kind of what bloggers do. That’s what makes them bloggers. I guess maybe that means I’m a crappy blogger. But the fact that I’m blogging now has to count for something, right?

Just to let you in on a little secret, I guess the reason I haven’t posted any of the blog posts I’ve written lately is because, well, they’re too honest. And I’m just not sure I want to be that honest. So until I can find something to say that is more comfortable, less risky, and ultimately a less honest level of honest, I just won’t say much. In other words, until I can find a way to convincingly feign honesty (which would seem to be an oxymoron), I’m not going to risk being really, truly honest. Faking it is so much easier.

I remember times when I’ve been leading a small group Bible study or something and I really want the group to go deeper and learn to trust and be candid with each other. How do I try to get this to happen? As part of the discussion I share with the group some secret or fault or struggle from my own life as a way of modeling transparency and honesty and trust. The thing its, the secret or fault or struggle from my own life typically isn’t something that is a big deal to me in any way, shape, or form, but I play it up like it’s a big deal because I’m trying to set an example. That makes total sense, right? I’m basically pretending to be open and honest. It’s feigned honesty… which really isn’t honesty at all. And the truth is, most of us are quite accomplished at this sort of thing. What we are generally NOT good is, is true transparency, true openness, true honesty.

And you know what? It’s impossible to have true community and true friendship without those things. How are we ever going to really know each other deeply and do life together with authenticity if all of us are continually running around faking it? (That’s a rhetorical question. The answer is implied.)

Now, I’m not saying the Internet is necessarily the place to live this out. There are some things with which the nameless masses don’t need to be privy. But there has to be SOMEONE (or someoneS) who we are willing to share everything with, even the last 5%. As it is, we typically only share the stuff that we really don’t need to share while the stuff that is absolutely eating us up inside and even threatening to destroy our lives remains hidden, just out of sight, covered with a fake smile and a thin veneer of false-spirituality, like a smelly, festering sore being covered with a Hello Kitty Band-Aid.

But here’s the thing: That last 5% that lurks in the dark recesses of our lives only becomes more powerful the harder we try to keep it hidden. So it continues tearing us apart from the inside out because we are so afraid of the consequences of having our dirty laundry aired and having our dark secrets brought out into the light. But here’s the thing about deep, dark secrets that are brought out into the light: They cease being deep dark secrets. They get a little lighter and a little less secret, and because of that, they begin to lose a little of their power over you.

I think that’s why Paul said “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2 NIV).” I don’t know about you, but that verse is hard for me to live out. It’s not hard for me to carry someone else’s burden; it’s hard for me to suck it up and be honest enough to share my burdens with someone else so they can help me carry them. And that needs to stop. So maybe in a few days I’ll throw up a few long-simmering blog posts. Or not. (See, I’m just being honest!)

T minus 5 days... and counting. Does it have to be counting?

Today is Wednesday. It is also the last Wednesday I will be employed by my church. Tomorrow is the last Thursday. Friday is the last Friday. Saturday is… well, you get the idea. This is my last week of work. It’s the last few days until I launch out into this next chapter in my life, whatever that might just happen to be. There is certainly a degree of sadness over all that I’ll be losing—the closeness of a lot of relationships, the ability to help lead a church that I love and that I had a hand in building and shaping, and so many other things. There is also a degree of excitement for whatever the future holds. And then there’s the vomiting. Ok, not real, actual, up-from-the-insides vomiting. Just the kind of stress and worry and “holy crap, I don’t have a job!” sorts of things that make me want to vomit… figuratively speaking, of course.

So, I need a job. And, honestly, I have some concerns about finding one, or at least finding one that will allow me to use my skills/talents/gifts in a way that is even remotely fulfilling. I have concerns about prospective employers understanding how my experience could possibly translate into the “real world.” And, I have concerns about being pigeonholed as a religious fruitcake. I can just imagine an HR person scanning my resume. BS in Business Administration. "Oh, that’s good." Good GPA, graduated in three years! “Oh, excellent.” Masters of Divinity? “What the heck is that?” Eight and a half years working in churches? “Whoa! Heck no!” Then I picture them channeling the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld and screaming, “No job for you!”

I’ve done a lot of talking over the last couple of months about living with radical obedience to Christ and being willing to take major steps of faith without knowing where they lead, and even as I was making the decisions that would force me to step out in faith in a way I hadn’t before, I had a total peace about it all. In fact, for quite a while my lack of freaking out actually freaked me out a little. Ahem. *dramatic pause* Yeah, that was then; this is now. More specifically, that was when I was still working and still drawing a paycheck. This is when I have less than a week to work and one last, single, solitary, lone paycheck coming, after which there will be no more. So, for all of my lack of freaking out over the past few months, I guess I’m making up for it this week. Oh, and then my little friend Doubt has been cuddling up next to me pretty regularly, also. He's quite the faithful companion. “What are you thinking?” he sneers. “What do you possibly have to offer?” he jeers. “You will never be anything!” he taunts. What a great friend, huh?

And I’m thinking, “I’m dealing with all of this junk already, and I’m not even done working yet! What’s it going to be like in two weeks? A month?” Ugh! How shallow is the faith pool I'm swimming in?

So I’ve been reminding myself, “You made this decision for the right reasons—because personal integrity and stewardship made it practical, and because obedience to Christ made it necessary.” And that makes me feel like a little less of an idiot, but it doesn’t make me feel any more employed. And in case you didn’t know, feeling like a little less of an idiot doesn’t pay very well.

But…

Even in the midst of the doubt and frustration, I know that God hasn’t called me to do this for nothing, so he must have a plan. And however big or small that plan might seem, it is HIS plan, and I want to be in on it. So even as I whine and mope and doubt…

I believe Him.

I trust Him.

I wait for Him.

And I put my life in His hands.


Do you ever struggle with doubt (or anything else) that tries to put a put out the fire that God has lit in you?

Church Growth 101, Jesus Style

As a pastor I’m constantly bombarded with information about how to get my church to grow. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I believe God wants churches to grow, because it’s kind of hard for a church to be very successful at reaching people far from God and not grow, and statistics show that the Church in the West has been stagnant or in decline for some time now, meaning we need all the help we can get. But as I dig into Scripture I’m intrigued by the method of church growth Jesus seemed to model.

If Jesus had a three step plan for growing the Church, it might have looked something like this: Step 1. Say lots of crazy, painfully honest things that make lots of religious people (i.e. the ones who would seem most interested in all things churchy) mad enough to kill you. Step 2. Say lots of crazy, painfully honest things that make most of the irreligious people run the other way like Roadrunner busting it when Wile E. Coyote was in hot pursuit. Step 3. Watch the ragtag handful of nobodies (and believe me, I mean that in the most affectionate way possible), who were passionately devoted in spite of the hardships, grow through the Spirit’s power like rabbits on fertility drugs into a massive movement that is still going strong after a couple thousand years. Check out some of these passages: Luke 12:33, Luke 9:59-62, and Matthew 10:37.

I know what you’re thinking. Surely Jesus didn’t mean for us to take those statements seriously! No way he would really expect any of his followers to leave behind the most important people in their lives to follow him. And that whole bit about selling your possessions and giving the money to the poor? That’s just silly. Nobody would actually do that. Jesus would never ask that from us!

Or would he?

Hmm. What if he really DID mean those things? What if he really WAS serious? What if he had EVERY INTENTION of us living our lives with that kind of radical passion and devotion and obedience?
If hearing those words grates on your ears like the sound of 42,328 sets of fingernails scraping their way down a giant chalkboard, you are not alone. The ears of most of our fellow Americans are ringing in harmony with yours… and, ahem, mine. We don’t like to consider the possibility that Jesus really did maybe, kinda, in a manner of speaking mean what he said… a little… maybe.

Something I’ve been realizing more and more over the past couple of years is just how much thought and work we put into trying to make the Gospel of Jesus Christ more easily digestible. Like running a gristly piece of meat through a tenderizer, we take what Jesus said, run in through the filter of our 21st century American way of seeing the world, and end up with a nice little Americanized version of the Gospel. The only problem with that, though, is… well, what we end up with isn’t really the Gospel at all at that point. But hey, at least it’s tender.

My recent trip to the other side of the world has really opened my eyes to this even farther. Why was it so eye opening? Well, because the brothers and sisters in Christ I got to know there haven’t been domesticated and indoctrinated by the 21st century American version of the Good News (that Jesus loves you and longs to be the missing piece to your American dream without requiring much of anything from you other than nominal church attendance and dropping a few bills in the basket). They never got the memo that Jesus didn’t really mean those things he said, so they are *gasp* living as if he was serious. They don’t try to decipher what Jesus really meant or explain away the harsh, radical nature of Jesus’ teaching. They just live as if the Kingdom of God really is the most important thing there is, worthy of giving up everything for. If only they were more educated, right? Seriously, I’m sure they have their fair share of struggles and plenty of areas where they are weak, but I am amazed by their faith and passion and dedication. Far from a tenderized, easily digestible version of the Gospel, they teach it and live it in all its radical, counter-cultural, everything-must-change-ness. And you know what the result is? The Church is experiencing incredible growth. Kind of like when Jesus tried it back in the day.

A good dose of perspective...

It’s a little after 5:00 AM. I’ve been up since 3:30 and sleep is escaping me. I guess that’s the price I pay for taking a six hour nap, staying up for two hours, and going to bed at 9:00 PM. Ugh! Jetlag! Oh well.

Being as tired as I am from the exhausting trip home (being awake for 48 straights hours and on a plane for about 24 of those tends to affect you in ways you can't imagine unless you've experienced it), I still haven’t had time to process a lot of what I experienced in MM. Truthfully, I think it will take weeks and even months to fully process it. There are a few things on the top of my mind, though, and one is about perspective.

That’s what I have received over the past couple of weeks… a much needed dose of perspective (and several much needed doses of Doxycycline, but that’s just a preventative measure!) One of the thoughts that I’m been ruminating on over the last several days is about fairness. We are so quick to think “That’s not fair” any time something doesn’t go our way or any time someone has something we don’t have. We think somehow we have a right to virtually anything we can dream of, and that if we don’t have it, we are being shortchanged.

When I was in MM, though, I quickly noticed that almost nothing was fair for me. Time and time again I found myself flat out angry over how unfair things were for me. There were so many times when I’ve wanted to shout out, “THAT ISN’T FAIR!” And I would have been justified in doing so, becuase the truth is, a lot of things weren’t fair for me. The difference, though, is that I typically found myself on the opposite side of the fairness equation from where I normally am when I feel this since of injustice. Since I landed in MM, I’ve been thinking…

• It’s not fair that I got to eat these incredible, filling meals with meat, vegetables, rice, soup, and about half the time, ice cream for dessert. I have more food than I can eat while many people in MM and many other countries don’t. Most are happy to have a little white rice to fill their stomachs... for breakfast, lunch, and dinner... if they are lucky. I’m embarrassed by how much I take that for granted.
• It’s not fair that I have so many clothes that I can think about being color coordinated and somewhat in style (I realize my sense of style is subjective. Make of it what you will!) while many people in the world, and in MM, are simply happy to have something to wear.
• It’s not fair that I spent more on souvenirs (reasoning that as inexpensive as things are, how could I not get one more item) than the average MM worker makes in a month.
• It’s not fair that simply happening to be born in one country as opposed to another is the biggest deciding factor on your chance of having a job and making a livable wage, the quality of healthcare you receive, your chances of dying of an easily-preventable disease, your chances of experiencing true hunger, and so many other really important things. Poor people don't tend to give a crap about half the things that consume the thoughts of most of the people reading this blog (all six of you) myself included.

There are so many things that simply aren’t fair, and to be honest, I’m struggling to make sense of it. If I put together every last dollar I have to allow all of the amazing, humble, generous, full-of-life, kids and adults I saw everyday on my trip to enjoy a good meal, it would be a nice gesture, but would anything really be gained in the long run? Would it do anything at all to reduce poverty or end hunger on a bigger scale? If I gave away all of my clothes, I’m sure those who received them would be appreciative, what would anything be gained long term? Would the fairness equation be any more balanced?

 

The more I think about it, I guess maybe the key is sustainability. Clearly, food and clothing and many other needs must be met in the short term. I guess that is where foreign aid from governments as well as churches and other non-profits comes into play. Along with that aid, though, there must be a plan to work towards sustainability apart from the aid. That is where so many of us who feel passionate about helping others fail. We want to drop in and have an experience, do a little here and there, or throw money at a problem we see, but we often stop short of true investment in people and/or projects, so things quickly go back to how they were before.  

 

One of the things that most excites me about the work that is going on in MM through the network I worked with, though, is that even as they meet the very real and critical short-term needs, they are also working towards long-term sustainability. The short term needs are being met, but with long-term bigger picture needs in mind. From an outsiders point of view, it seems like some great things are happening, too! Oh, and as those humanitarian needs are being met, the Church is growing as well… and that is truly something to be excited about.

 

Well, it's 5:47 AM. I think it's time for a nap!

 

And we're leavin' on a jet plane...

It’s Christmas day and I’ve been busy doing all the typical things—spending time with family, opening presents, eating big meals, sleeping in a post-meal carb-induced coma, etc.—but even as I've been doing these things my mind has been halfway around the world. You see, on Monday morning (12/27) Michelle and I will leave for Southeast Asia. We'll meet our group in Evansville at 10:00 AM and about 40 hours later we'll arrive at our destination. Hoorah for jetlag! Seriously, though, I can't wait!

For several months now my excitement and anticipation have been building. I went to the same country for the first time last year and had an amazing experience. I love travel and culture and food... and all of that serving and teaching and stuff we did, too. Before I even boarded the plane to come home I was already looking forward to being back sometime soon. For weeks (ok, maybe months) after I came home I told anybody and everybody (but mostly my poor wife) story after story after story... and I might have given her a steady diet of facts and statistics and whatever I’d read in the news recently. This year, though, Michelle is going as well, and though there are a lot of things I'm excited about, one of the things I'm most looking forward to is being with her as she experiences for the first time all of the incredible things I got to experience last year. It's only a day and a half away. I can't wait!

If you're in a praying mood, here are some things you can pray about:

• Safe and smooth travel
• That all of our luggage/supplies will make it
• Good health
• That our work would be fruitful
• That we would be an encouragement to those we are going to serve
• That we would be changed by our experience

 

When being responsible isn't the responsible thing to do...

I’m a responsible person. Really, I am. I’m also practical. Painstakingly practical. To a degree that annoys a lot of people... but mostly my wife. And I like to think I can be pretty objective and rational, even in the midst of an emotional situation. Whatever I am, I’m definitely NOT somebody who just quits a job without having another job in the works. Or a plan. Or a good idea of what a possible plan might look like. Or… well, much of anything. That wouldn’t be rational, or practical, or responsible. So I would NEVER do something like that.

BUT… I sorta… did. (See my December 21 post.) Now, to be fair, it wasn’t a half-baked decision based on emotion. I counted the cost and weighed the options and made an informed, thought-out decision to do what I believed was right. There was even a practical reason behind it—I simply believe it doesn’t make sense for a church the size of mine to have two full-time pastors and that the resources being used for me could be better utilized in other ways. But then there’s that whole other God putting this weird idea in my head to quit my job and wait on him to show my wife and me the next step thing thrown into the mix, too. But still, my decision was thought-out, deliberated, discussed, stirred with a good measure of prayer, baked fully, and topped with a sweet, sugary dollop of faith. It just so happens that this particular decision defies virtually all conventional wisdom. It seems IRrational, IMpractical, and IRresponsible.

But here’s the thing. Sometimes God calls his followers to be irrational, impractical, and dare I say irresponsible, at least by the world’s standards. In the midst of a Jewish culture that was often more than a little hostile toward people of the Way, Jesus sent out his young believers with these instructions: “Don’t take any money in your money belts—no gold, silver, or even copper coins. Don’t carry a traveler’s bag with a change of clothes and sandals or even a walking stick” (Matthew 10:9-10a NLT). THAT isn’t rational, or practical, or responsible. Not by anyone’s definition. Then, after he’d given their marching orders he dropped this little nugget of encouragement: “Look, I am sending you out as sheep among wolves…But beware! For you will be handed over to the courts and will be flogged with whips in the synagogues. You will stand trial before governors and kings because you are my followers” (Matthew 10:16-18a NLT). Wow, sounds like fun! Ready to sign up? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Me neither. But the truth is, those very risks—beatings, imprisonment, etc.—are the reality faced by believers all over the world, even today. The question for those of us living in the good ‘ole U.S. of A, though, is, “What does it look like to obey Jesus’ call to this kind of faith-filled living here and now?” For me at least, it looks like taking this crazy step of faith and seeing where it leads. Even if it seems irrational, impractical, and irresponsible. And it probably does.

You can call me crazy...

I used to blog. Then I stopped. Now I’m blogging again. About a year ago I changed the title of my dormant, neglected blog to “Shades of Gray: Living in the In-Between.” It seemed like a good title for a blog. Interestingly enough, though I haven’t posted a thing since making the name change, I now find myself living in the in-between. You see, a couple of weeks ago I quit my job. Really. I tendered my resignation to the elders at my church (I am an associate pastor), effective January 31, 2011. And I have no plan. Whatsoever. No plan… as in I don’t have a job lined up, nor do I have any idea what I’m going to do with my time or to bring home money for such frivolous things as food and electricity. That’s what I mean by no plan. And you know what’s even crazier? I’m not worried about it. Seriously. Call me stupid or irresponsible or naïve. Go ahead. Maybe I am. Though nobody has actually used those words to my face, it’s overwhelmingly evident from the questions people ask me that they are wanting to say, “WHOA! Hello! Common sense, aisle 5, buddy! Here’s a two-for-one coupon. Let me point you in that direction.”

I get the sentiment. I really do. I mean, who quits a good paying job doing something you love with people you love without having a plan… especially in this economy?! Well, I do I guess. But there’s a little more to the story. (Note: This is the part where a large percentage of you will really question what type of Kool-aid I’ve been drinking.) Around mid-July I felt God say two things to me. (OK, religious fruitcake alert! Hide the women and children!) I never heard an audible voice, but it was very real nonetheless. I felt God say, “Stop playing it safe. Take the risk.” It was as real as if it was written on a stone tablet and dropped out of the sky onto my head. At the time, I felt pretty certain I knew what it meant. It meant I had to step away from the safety and security of my comfortable, well-paying associate pastor job at a church I helped launch and step into the unknown realm of the land between. (Thank’s Jeff Manion for the "Land Between" reference. If you want to read a great book on the subject, check it out here.) I also knew that then, July, wasn’t the time. So I talked with Michelle (my wonderful, supportive, Jesus-loving wife) and we began praying for direction and guidance and faith and all of the stuff you pray for in a situation like that. As the months drew on, it became clearer and clearer just what I needed to do and when I needed to do it. So, a couple of weeks ago, I did it. I (Choose your favorite cliché here:) (A.) took the plunge (B.) stepped out in faith (C.) proved to all those who were wondering that I really am a few fries short of a Happy Meal. (Ok, so that last one isn’t technically a cliché, but you get the idea.) And again (as of right now at least), I’m perfectly ok with that. In fact, I’m actually sort of excited about it. That’s not to say my life is free of anxiety/worry/fear/stress/doubt but simply that I believe to the core of my being that I’m doing exactly what God wants me to be doing. And as a follower of Christ that’s a good place to be, even when it’s scary or uncomfortable, and even when most everyone else thinks you've taken a gainer off the deep end.

Have a story of a time when you did something you believed was right, even when everyone else thought you were nuts?

What's on your Christmas list?

These are just some interesting facts to think about as you do your Christmas shopping.
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Cost of a Playstation 3 - $599

Average household income of residents in rural China, the country where many PS3s are manufactured - $400


1 carot diamond ring - $5000

Average yearly wage in Sierra Leone, home of some of the worlds largest diamond mines - $500


HP 42" plasma screen HDTV - $1499

Average yearly wage in Ethiopia, where there is 1 TV station and 1/100 people own a TV - $700

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It's not my intention for this to be some self-righteous "shame on you for buying stuff for Christmas" post. As I am confronted with statistics like these, I honestly don't know what to think, how to act, or how I should change the way I live. As I think about all I will give and get for Christmas, my heart is heavy and deeply moved by the reality of such unimaginable poverty on such a large scale.

Best Book I've Read in a Long Time

I love it when I find a book that says what I want to say, but way better than I could ever say it. This is one of those books.

For as long as I've been a Christian I've connected with the primal, irrational, counter-cultural call of Jesus--the call that compels people to move to a different continent and be missionaries, sell their posessions and give to the poor, or choose the high road even when there is a lot of material benefit to cutting a few corners. I don't always do the best job of living with the Fearless Faith (another good book) I would like to have, but I've never been satisfied with "civilized" Christianity either. I'm not interested in living by default, doing church by default, or being a Christian by default. I can't handle the status quo because God has called me to something more.

This book is about living with the kind of primal, authentic faith God calls us to have--a faith that looks raw and barbaric and undignified to civilized people. I loved it. Get it, read it, and live the Barbarian Way.

A (Not So) Happy Thanksgiving

I read an article yesterday about how many teachers are beginning to tell a more accurate version of the Thanksgiving story. In other words, they are trading in the fairytale that the Pilgrims and the Indians peacefully lived together and shared the bounty of the year's harvest, instead opting for some version of the story where the European settlers came to a America and began killing American Indians and taking the land their tribes had occupied for centuries. Really, though, we can't be too hard on those poor settlers. I mean, they said that God had promised it to them, so why wouldn't he want them to go Old Testament on the Natives? That story doesn't quite have that same nice holiday feel, does it?

I don't know how far some of these teachers have taken their new-found boldness. There always seems to be a few wackos in the group... like the wonderful people at PETA who pass out pictures of mutilated chickens to kindergartners... but I applaud their efforts. I remember when I first began to realize the true story from that part of American history and it really ticked me off that I had never heard it before. In essence, that I had basically been lied to my entire life. I think it was probably in high school that I first began to realize on my own that there was more to the Thanksgiving story than what has typically been taught, but it very well might have been college before anyone actually spoke bluntly and truthfully about what happened. That seems ridiculous to me.

As the article I read points out, and as I would expect, "concerned" parents are jumping all over the teachers who are trying to tell the more realistic version of the Thanksgiving story. One woman was quoted as saying, "[the teacher who is teaching this] is teaching kids to hate their country. That is a very distorted view of history, a distorted view of Thanksgiving." Really? That's the view that's distorted? Another guy was quoted as saying, "If you're going to teach, you need to keep it positive. They can learn about the truths when they grow up." I won't even comment on the last line.

I'm not saying we need to describe the practice of scalping to 1st graders and encourage them to think about how painful and humiliating it might be if it happened to them, but I am saying we need to be a little honest and tell the real story. The story isn't pretty. I hate it that it is even a part of our history. I wish it had gone differently, but it didn't, and we can't change history. We do have the opportunity, however, to learn from it. That's the challenge before us, and I don't think we need to wait until adulthood to teach it.

So I have a challenge for each of you as you sit down to Thanksgiving dinner with the family tomorrow. After everyone has taken their seat, but before they have started to eat, tell them you have something you want to share. As they look on intently wondering what snippet of holiday cheer you are going to pass along, begin a detailed description of what it was really like when that first thanksgiving was supposed to have taken place. Spare no gory detail. Imitate the agonizing screams of the people, both Indian and Pilgrim, meeting their death in various ways. Describe the scenes in full detail. Look inquiringly at your aunt Sue or your Grandpa Pete and ask how they would feel if some stranger came and stole all they had. Go on and on until the whole story is complete. And when the last person has become angry at you, completely lost their appetite, or excused themselves to watch the Cowboys game, begin a lengthy prayer, asking God to forgive each person at the table for all the wrong they've done. Be specific. Call out sins and people by name. Then, thank God for the food, and dig in. It'll be great!

(DISCLAIMER: I am not serious. I am not encouraging anyone to take action similar to what I described in the above paragraph. Therefore, I am in no way liable or reponsible if you are ostracized, disowned, beat up, kicked out, or cursed at because you are dumb enough to try what I described above. Please act responsibly.)

My favorite time of year

I've noticed recently that the days are becoming shorter and the temperature cooler, and that can only mean we are bearing down on my favorite time of year--winter.

I love the winter. I know a lot of people hate it. Some go south with the geese to warmer weather. Others simply stay inside and count the days till spring. I love winter, though.

I'm not exactly sure why I think it is so great. Nothing beats the cold, brisk air, especially on a clear morning, but that's not what makes me really love winter. Some people enjoy getting to cozy up next to the fire place when the temperature drops, but I don't have a fire place and probably wouldn't like the smoke smell even if I did. Snow makes the season bearable for a good many people, but I'm really not all that crazy about it, either.

When winter comes many people dread the cold, dark, gray dullness of the winter landscape, longing for the bright, full of life colors of spring to reemerge. As strange as it sounds, though, I think that is the part of winter I really love. I realize that seems weird, but I’ve been like that for a long time now.

I’m not sure why, but I love the gray. I love the quiet deadness. I love the cold, wet, gloominess and not seeing the sun for a month at a time. I suppose it could be for a lot of reasons. Maybe the obsessive-compulsive side of me just needs the balance. I don’t know. Maybe the absence of color and light and life offers me a striking reminder of the brokenness of the world we live in. Maybe my melancholic temperament somehow identifies with it, or maybe I feel like it represents all of the cold, lonely, defeated parts of me that I rarely show. Maybe I’m just crazy! I’m really not sure, but I love winter, and there is something about it that continually strikes me and plays a chord in my heart and mind like very little else in life.

I love my job.

I know this may sound kind of weird, but I’ve realized over the last few weeks that I absolutely love what I do. I have never experienced that before in my entire life, and it is the most freeing, exhilarating, motivating thing I can imagine. I love my job… not because I am a pastor, but because every day I get to help lead a church that is doing what I am more passionate about than anything else.

Never before in my life have I been passionate about what I was doing. I worked, went to school, did what I did because I had to do something and those things seemed like what I should be doing at the time. In a lot of cases, I felt like I was doing exactly what God wanted me to do, but I was not passionate about it. In some cases, I was pretty miserable.

As I have grown in my faith and honed in my calling, God has given me a vision and stirred within me a passion to help the church be relevant in the midst of an ever-changing, post-Christian culture, helping unchurched people connect with the God who desperately wants to be in relationship with them. For the most part, though, my passion has been a lot more abstract than tangible. I liked the idea of bringing the vision of the church presented in Acts to life in our world today. I liked the idea of the church being a place where people really can come as they are, sin and all. I liked the idea of seeing people who have never really thought about what it would be like to live life as a follower of Jesus, or even who have been turned off by churches or Christians in the past, truly experience the Living God for the first time. I realized that most churches aren’t doing those things, so I liked the idea of pulling out all the stops, thinking outside the box, being innovative and creative and different to make those things happen. The reality, though, was that in my life those visions were never more than good ideas.

Then, a couple of weeks ago I had one of those “aha” moments and realized that right now I am actually doing what I am passionate about. It’s no longer just an abstract concept or a good idea. It is actually happening, and God is blessing it! It’s who I am. It’s what myself and a group of other believers are trying to live out in our community. For the first time in my life, I love what I am doing, and I am doing what I am passionate about. I believe in it. I am fully devoted to it. I’m willing to bet the farm for it. I’m willing to give my life to it. I’ve found my purpose, and this is it!

Some Things I've Learned About Jesus

Here are some things I've learned about Jesus that might be a suprise to Christians... and that many will try to explain away and give all kinds of reasons why Christians today shouldn't live their lives the same way. (Sorry, the cynical side of me had to add the second line.)

#1. Jesus hung out with broken, dirty, sinful people a lot more than he did with those who were religious. The ordinary, don't yet have it together, sinful people were the ones he chose to be his disciples, the ones to carry his message to all the world. They are the ones he broke religious tradition to eat with. They are the ones he offered grace and love to when the religious were offering contempt and judgment. Jesus doesn't seem to have very much at all to say to or about the religious leaders that was good. Instead, he actually reserved his harshest criticisms for them. (And by the way, realizing that totally changed the way I live my life as a Christian.) Jesus lived his entire life this way, but who do most Christians hang out with exclusively? Yep, other Christians. (I do it too, and it sucks.) We do so to try to become more like Jesus, but the scary thing is that we might actually become less like Jesus the more we hang around other Christians.

#2. Jesus drank alcohol. He also turned water into wine so others could drink. Paul encouraged Timothy to drink "a little wine" for his stomach. Many Christians, though, view drinking alcohol as one of those big sins, right up there with murder and voting Democrat.

#3. Jesus spent way more time teaching about how to live a life that pleases God than he did about escaping the fires of hell. Sorry, but it's the truth. I've long said that not wanting to go to hell is a pretty crappy reason to follow Christ. Not that anybody should want to go to hell, but becoming a Christian because you prefer cooler temperatures is like eating cake for the protein from the one egg in it.

#4. Jesus spent way more time teaching about the Kingdom of God on earth than about Heaven. Sorry again, but it's the truth also. It makes our Christian life here and now a whole lot more challenging, too...

#5. Jesus taught that more than anything else... more than our obedience to a set of religious rules, more than our money, more than looking "like a Christian," more than our words or deeds or anything else, what God really wants is us. He wants all of us in every way. He wants us to know him more intimately than we know even ourselves, and everything that God has done from the beginning of time till now has been his work to bring us back to him. If you really think about it, that gives us a remarkable freedom.

One of the pretty radical parts of Jesus message is that he didn't call us to live our lives in the black and white, as we so often try to do. He lived his life in the vast uncertainty of the grey, and he calls us to do it too. Lately, I have become more and more ok with not having all the answers, not having everything sorted out, and not really caring too much if other Christians disagree with me on some issues. I'm excited about jumping into the vast grey abyss of life with Jesus. It's sometimes scary, rarely easy, but it's an awesome journey, and I invite you to join me.

Broken and Unworthy

Those of you who know me know that I'm a thinker. I analyze and over analyze everything, however insignificant it might be. I think this is one of my strengths. I have good problem solving skills. I am able to look at most situations pretty objectively. I am fairly self-aware. I know when I get on other people's nerves. I know when I'm more or less on-target. My analytical mind is a strength, but it is also a weakness. Not everything needs to be analyzed to the extent I analyze it. Sometimes, I choose analysis instead of action.

Recently, though, one of the things I have been analyzing a lot is my attitude and my life. Something on my mind and heart a lot lately is the feeling that I am increasingly less worthy of bearing Christ's name. The more I learn and grow, the more I realize that I can't be who I want to be. I'm broken, incapable, and unworthy. As much as I strive to be holy. As much as I strive to be who God has called me to be, I fail.

I've always had this head knowledge, that I'm messed up and all. That fact was build into my mind as I became a Christian in high school. There was probably never a time in my Chrstian life when I wouldn't have said that I'm unworthy, that I'm sinful, that I fall short, but in the back of my mind I probably would have thought that I was doing pretty well. At this point in my life, right now, I feel like I "get it" so much more than I did just 2 or 3 years ago. I am realizing that Christianity isn't really about half of the things I thought it was about. There was a time when I was pretty caught up in being religious. I said that I was Christian, not religious, but really, well... I was in the business of self-righteous, "do this but not that", sin management with a little grace and faith thrown in for good measure. I thought you could tell who was a Christian by how they dressed, who they hung around with, whether or not they drank alcohol or smoked, etc. Now I don't define Christianity in those terms so much, and I feel a remarkable freedom to be like Jesus without being religious. I found that a lot of things I thought were important probably don't matter all that much to Jesus, and some of the things I put on the back burner are really what are most important... some of those things that are less measurable and not cut and dried. For example, when you define Christianity as doing A, B, and C, and not doing X, Y, and Z, then it's pretty easy to measure who fits that profile and who doesn't. So, whether its right or not, that's how Christianity is often defined. On the other hand, it is a lot more difficult to measure love and grace and a relationship with God, and that's what Christianity is about more than anything else.

The more I grow and the more I learn, the more I feel unworthy and incapable of being who I want to be, who God wants me to be. Many nights as I am laying in bed on my way to lala land I think about the day, and over the last few months I've found myself feeling more and more unworthy--messed up, broken in all sorts of ways, and short of who I want to me. Whether I've had a good day or a bad day, I can usually see pretty clearly a lot of the ways I messed up and could have done better, ways my attitude stunk. I have realized that more often than not, when I've had a bad day, it's not because dramatic life-altering bad things happened. No, it's usually because my attitude was crappy. Granted, sometimes stuff happens that I have no control over, but even then, most of the time my day would have ended up pretty good if I would have reacted with patience, rationality, and some of those other Christian qualities I claim to live by. So the more I learn and grow, the more aware I am that I'm not learning and growing nearly as much as I want or need to. And I want that to change.